Exile
Page 43
He arrived and my God, he proved himself a finer thespian! He looked so anxious, tense, disturbed and hurt that I grew fretful and Gaurav, alarmed, ran to him.
‘What happened?’ I asked.
He did not reply.
I forgot my sulking, my stiff-neckedness and resentment. I was anxious to realize the turmoil in my Surya’s heart. I used my divine power. I told myself – I’m a clown, the best joke of the world, the mirror in a house of laughter – but I was unable to get the slightest smile on his face. The fellow sustained his woeful expression and banged into the other room with his bags.
I went to him and asked, ‘Are you busy? You have returned after so many days. Ask Gaurav to sit with you a while, cuddle him. He has been waiting since he woke up …’
‘I’ve a meeting with Pandeyji this evening. I have to submit my report on Gosainganj. I’ll be busy today.’
2
Surya left to see Pandeyji. In a little while, a fierce storm brewed outside. I bolted all the doors and windows to prevent dust from entering the house. I drew the curtains as well. However, as usual, if you cut yourself off from the external panorama, secure all the doors and windows or shut your eyes, you begin to observe more. This happened with me as well, but not for very many scenes … a single scene, looping over and over – slut, tart, bastard! If I portray my state in literary diction, I would say that a tempest was raging outside, and inside me gusted another. Such vicious loathing was bubbling inside me after a long time. I was unable to accept the fact that Surya would have mingled with them, held them close and cried. Or maybe Surya prostrated at their feet to be forgiven. My revulsion, my sense of insult, my fury was all the more ruthless today because Surya had remained with me since the incident, but now I was feeling deserted. My abhorrence grew so fierce that I was afraid I would throw up and soon, I puked at the basin. Feeling lighter, I washed my mouth, sprinkled water on my eyes and when I felt better, I stood under the shower and washed and washed myself until the storm died down.
After washing, I changed and got out. I drew the curtains and opened the windows. I peered outside, the storm was over, but it had left behind the signs of its fury. The weather had improved, and the temperature had plummeted. The leaves on the trees danced, and the twigs too. A vegetable vendor pushed his cart, calling out to customers.
3
As the night advanced, my concern grew stronger – where was Surya? I called him many times, but his phone was switched off. I had no choice but to wait. Gaurav fell asleep, waiting for his father.
Ultimately, he arrived.
‘How was the meeting?’
‘It is finished – over.’
‘Any decisions?’
‘I’ll talk to you tomorrow.’
I drew close to him. I held his wrist and reclined my head on his chest, ‘Is everything okay, Surya?’
He stroked my head and then caressed my back. The touch whispered to me – my Surya was by my side. With me. I said, ‘Let’s go to bed.’
He replied, ‘I have to finish a chore.’
‘What’s that?’ I asked.
He hauled out his old Mayfair notebooks and scanned them at random. After a while, he picked up a blank one, uncapped his pen and began writing. The notebook was on the table, and he was in his chair. The pen was in his hand and across it, there was the night, and I.
I moved to another room to not disturb him, serving him tea at frequent intervals. It continued till the third cusp of the night, and then I dozed off, but he was awake.
At dawn, I noticed that he had left to go out for a walk. I approached the table. His pen lay uncapped. The Mayfair notebook was closed. It was bad manners on my part, unethical even. However, I was unable to check myself. I needed to read what he had recorded through the night – without informing Surya, without seeking his leave. I picked up the notebook and rummaged through the pages. I stood there, jolted. Every one of the leaves of the Mayfair notebook was absolutely blank, barren.
About the Book
ONLY I AM THERE.
I AM THE ONE.
NOTHING ELSE EXISTS.
Suryakant’s life begins to unravel as he is forced to quit his government job. To get temporary financial relief, he decides to work for one Ramjoar Pandey and trace his lineage. The journey takes Suryakant back to Sultanpur, his hometown, where he encounters his estranged family. The past slips in and out, as in a dream, and the future congeals into a mass of anxiety and fear.
Set in the badlands of Uttar Pradesh, the men and women in the book are faced with ruthlessness, depravity and an intense loneliness, rising from the overwhelming assault of capitalism and consumerism. Akhilesh’s inventive prose treads between memory and moment, the states of being and not being, as it follows the lives of ordinary people who discover the thin line that separates freedom from exile.
Exile portrays the mortal wounds inflicted by modern civilization on our soul.
About the Author
Born in Sultanpur, Uttar Pradesh, in 1960, Akhilesh has an MA in Hindi literature from Allahabad University. He is the author of several short story anthologies, including Aadmi Nahin Tootataa, Mukti, Shapgrast and Andhera, as well as the novels Anweshan and Nirvasan. His stories have been adapted for stage, and into movies by Doordarshan. He is also a dialogue and screenplay writer. Many of his works have been translated into several Indian languages. He has also written a book of non-fiction work, Vah Jo Yatharth Tha.
Akhilesh is the editor of the Hindi periodical Tadbhav. He has also edited ten volumes of Ek Kahani Ek Kitab and eleven volumes of Kahaniyan Rishton Ki as well as Das Bemisal Prem Kahaniyan.
Akhilesh has been the recipient of several awards, including the Shrikant Verma Samman, the Indu Sharma Katha Samman, the Parimal Samman, the Vanmali Samman, the Ayodhya Prasad Khatri Samman, the Spandan Award, the Balkrishna Sharma Navin Award, the Kathakram Award, the Katha Award and the Manohar Shyam Joshi Rajkamal Prakashan Kriti Samman.
Rajesh Kumar is the writer of a collection of poems, Incest and Other Poems, a short story collection, Escape and Other Stories and a novel, The Other Destiny or Pelanty Gobernor. His fiction has appeared in a number of national and international journals. He is also the author of English Language Communication Skills: Lab Manual cum Workbook. As a translator, he has rendered into English Sanjeev’s Jungle Jahan Shuroo Hota Hai as The Jungle Within, Ranendra’s Global Gaanv Ke Devta as Lords of the Global Village and Mahua Maji’s Main Borishailla as Me, Borishailla. Kumar edits the Vinoba Bhave University refereed research journal of language and literature. Recipient of the state honour for contribution to higher education, he has held high ranks in the university administration system. At present, he heads the University Department of English, Vinoba Bhave University, Hazaribag.
Praise for Exile
‘The weft and the warp of our society is still afflicted with the maladies of casteism, which comes in direct conflict with all of India’s post-Independence democratic aspirations. The tacit dexterity with which Akhilesh has exposed the bare facts of reality in his novel Nirvasan provides an exclusive dossier for the Indian civil society and social scientists. An author’s intimate thought process is a tool for profound observation on fresh as well as timeworn political, religious and cultural dynamics of society. Nirvasan is an interpretation of this very sociality. The reader can be privy to a vision of the past and the present of our soil simultaneously.’
– Krishna Sobti
‘In totality, Exile is a complete novel about the truths of its epoch. Most of the Hindi novels in the recent years have been limited by their narrow vision of the times, issues and discourses. However, Exile is a counter narrative of synchronies – of privileged patriarchy, a retrograde caste system and a culture of consumerism. Akhilesh’s novel extends merrily from the subaltern Jagdamba to Amrika Pandey, and from Gosainganj village to metropolitan realisms – lending it local and global identities simultaneously. It is extraordinary in the sense that this tale of banishments has bee
n interwoven with quotidian experiences, a range of characters and domestic parrying, gathering the ricochets of the changing times. Imputing metaphors to the null, converting the meaningless to meaningful, discerning identity in futility, and presenting a foil to consumerism, this novel is Akhilesh’s intervention as well as a creative endeavour to place the author in a social role.’
– Virendra Yadav
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First published in India in 2018 by Harper Perennial
An Imprint of HarperCollins Publishers
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Copyright © Akhilesh 2018
Originally published as Nirvasan in 2014 by Rajkamal Prakashan, Delhi
Translation Copyright © Rajesh Kumar 2018
Introduction Copyright © Prabhat Ranjan 2018
P-ISBN: 978-93-5277-897-3
Epub Edition © October 2018 ISBN: 978-93-5277-898-0
This is a work of fiction and all characters and incidents described in this book are the product of the author’s imagination.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Akhilesh asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
All rights reserved under The Copyright Act, 1957. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins Publishers India.
Cover design Arati Devasher, aratidevasher.com
Cover image © istockphoto/andersboman
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